


Passing Constance's Muster

by venea_taur



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 06:38:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12858912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venea_taur/pseuds/venea_taur
Summary: Constance comes to a post-Savoy Aramis' rescue when he's cornered by a couple angry men. Then she meets his new caretakers, who call themselves his friends. Do they pass her muster?





	Passing Constance's Muster

**Author's Note:**

> This feeds off of one line in the first episode when Constance says she has three older brothers. I've always liked the idea that the three adopted her as a sister and she adopted them as brothers.

Constance hadn’t been lying when she told D’Artagnan that she had three older brothers, but most didn’t know that she did. It was common knowledge to those who knew her that she had younger brothers, but no one, except her husband knew about the older ones. Truth be told, they weren’t related to her, but that hadn’t mattered to them. It was some seven years ago that she’d gained her first older brother, Aramis. He’d come to her rescue when she was threatened by a couple of thieves on her way to the market.

The others came nearly five years ago, now. She'd been hesitant of them at first as they tried to prove their allegiance to Aramis.

The day she met them she’d found Aramis in an oddly reminiscent position to how he’d found her, though he wasn’t under attack from thieves. Even thieves didn’t want to approach him in his melancholy. Apparently, however, it didn’t stop these two men, who were verbally accosting the man. Both men spoke nearly simultaneously, leaving Constance with only snatches of their words, but their tone was unmistakable: anger. It was mirrored in their cornering of the marksman against the wall of the alleyway.

For his part, he was uncharacteristically silent, eyes downcast, pale, and shaking. Frankly, she wasn’t sure how much he was even aware of what was happening. The man she knew wouldn’t stand for this treatment, but he hadn’t been the same since he’d come back from the mission that had decimated the regiment. Word of the massacre had sent a flurry of panic through the streets of Paris for if the King’s elite guard could not defend themselves from the Spanish, what hope did the average Parisian have? She’d discounted the panic. Things would have to be dire for the Spanish to be able to step foot in Paris.

“Hey there,” she called out loudly, hoping her voice would reach above the two men’s. When it didn’t, she tried again, closer this time. She wasn’t afraid of the men. If they wished to do Aramis harm, they’d had plenty of opportunity. Like many dogs she’d run into, their bark was worse than their bite. If they’d heard her, they chose to ignore her, however.

“René, there you are.” She kept her voice loud, but let worry filter into her voice as she approached the men. It was time for a new tactic. “I thank you, gentlemen, for finding my brother.” She turned to them and gave each the nicest smile she could manage given the situation. It was a lame ploy, but she hoped it might work.

“This coward’s your brother?” Finally, inches from them they acknowledged her. She bristled at the tone and language.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, monsieur. My brother’s not a coward, but he isn't well right now. He fell and hurt his head badly. I had just gone to check on dinner and when I returned I found that he decided to go for a stroll. He's not always got his wits about him right now, you see.”

“Nah,” the other man started, “he’s a Musketeer. The only one to survive that massacre.”

“Yeah, he must’ve hid while they all were slaughtered. Coward,” the first man spat the last word in Aramis’ face. The marksman flinched but gave no other response, head still cowed and breathing heavily.

“I assure you, he’s not a Musketeer. Look at him, does he look like they’d even let him step foot in the garrison, let alone pick up a sword? No, not my brother René. He's far too clumsy. Too meek to hurt another soul.” It killed her to say such things about Aramis because she knew he was the best of the regiment, but she had to get them away and with no weapons, there were just words left. She only hoped Aramis didn’t believe anything she was saying.

“He’s a coward and a disgrace to the King and country.”

“Eh, maybe he’s not the one.” The second one said after a long pause and taking a good look at Aramis. With the shaking and paleness not to mention the hunched over position that did little to hide the loss of weight, she hoped he wouldn't appear capable of being a Musketeer to them. With his close haircut, thanks to the head wound, he really didn’t even look like the old Aramis.

“What do you mean? I know this man. My boy was so proud to be trained by the great Aramis, he took me around to meet him. Told me they were going off on a mission to break in the new recruits.”

“Look at him, though. This can’t be him. He couldn’t hold a knife long enough to fend off a child.”

Constance listened anxiously as the two continued discussing Aramis’ identity, hoping that her ploy would work and that it wouldn’t take much longer. She wasn’t sure how much longer Aramis would remain conscious as his breathing had only gotten worse. Sheer stubbornness right now was keeping him from curling up on the dirty street, she knew.

“Well, you can bet when I find him, I’m going to really give him a piece of my mind,” the first man said, having finally agreed with his companion that this was not the man they were looking for. They left with no offer of help or apology.

She waited until they were well out of earshot, counting the seconds until a couple minutes had passed.

“Aramis.” She kept her voice low, still, however. No sense in attracting trouble. He didn’t make a motion to acknowledge her, but he did let out a heartrending shutter and began to curl in on himself. She moved quickly to stop him, hoping at the same time not to startle him. She'd seen in relatives who'd been soldiers how the horrors of combat could linger in the body and mind, causing unconscious, dangerous reactions. If he settled here, she'd never get him going. Fortunately, they were just a few blocks from the garrison. He'd always found comfort in her home, but the garrison was where the Captain was and he'd know how to help his best soldier. She was sure he'd be worried that Aramis was out wandering alone.

With one of his arms over her shoulder and one of her own around his waist, they slowly began their journey out of the alley. She quietly cajoled him to move and his feet did, but she was sure it was more of an unconscious action than conscious. Still, it was slow moving and she wasn’t surprised to hear the bells chime twice in their trek.

“Aramis,” a deep voice called out. She looked up to see two Musketeers walking towards them, determined and relieved. “There you are.” The two men quickened their pace to meet them.

“Mademoiselle,” one of them said, tilting his head. “Thank you for finding our wayward brother.” He didn’t sound like the average Musketeer, didn’t hold himself like one either. Musketeers weren’t scoundrels, by any means, but they were hard men, who held themselves like the elite soldiers they were and spoke with a rough eloquence.

“You ought to be more careful with him. He was being accosted by a couple men who were looking for him. Didn’t even put up a smirk of resistance. It’s not like him.”

“I assure you, Mademoiselle, he is getting the best care,” the odd one said. She didn’t like his tone much. If she wasn’t busy holding up Aramis, she might’ve given him more a piece of her mind.

“I expect so, he’s the best in the regiment and one of the best men I’ve encountered.”

“You know him,” the dark-skinned Musketeer said. He’d mostly been silent, but she saw him itching to take Aramis from her. She wasn’t going to let him go until she was sure that they were truly taking care of him, of her brother.

“For a couple of years now. Saved me from some thieves and we’ve been good friends since.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be Constance, would you,” the same one asked.

“Yes, but is Madame Bonacieux to you two.”

“Of course.” He tilted his head in apology. “Aramis has been calling for you.”

“And you didn’t come find me? The Captain knows me; my husband provides materials for the regiment’s uniforms.”

“Captain Treville has been busy lately. We thought he was calling for a mistress,” the other one said, with some embarrassment to Constance’s pleasure. “Please understand, Aramis hasn’t spent much time in the present these past weeks. It is difficult to decipher his nightmares and hallucinations.”

“He seems much calmer, however,” the dark-skinned Musketeer said.

“Indeed.”

“And you’re pleased with this change,” she asked. The anger was quick to return. Visibly he was calmer, but the silence was unnerving. Not to mention the little huffs and cries he let out every so often and the alarming loss of muscle. There was no way this was better. Maybe she should take him to her home to recover.

“The agitation is interfering with his recovery. He takes many unsupervised and ill-timed walks. Even more so when he’s rambling on about you and his sister.”

“That would be me, as well. Not actual sister though. But he’s my brother.” They seemed to take her meaning without further explanation. “And you two are?”

“I am Athos and this is Porthos. We’re new to the regiment, but Aramis has fast become our brother as well.”

“Forced or wanted?”

“What,” Athos asked.

“Were you made to take care of him or did you want to?”

“Wanted, of course. We knew him only for a couple weeks before that mission, but he was friendly to both of us when the rest of the regiment wasn’t so much,” Porthos explained. “Let us take him and all of us can go back to the garrison. When he’s come around again, he’ll be glad to see you.”

She hesitated briefly before letting them take him. She wasn’t a weak woman, but Aramis was heavy and she feared she might drop him. And, she supposed, she could trust these men, Athos and Porthos. Her father always told her she was a good quick judge of character. So, she’d go back with them and stay with Aramis until he woke. Her husband would understand when she explained it was Aramis she was with. The two strangely got on well. She suspected it was, in part, because her husband knew he’d never have to worry about her when he was away on business with Aramis to look after her. That, and, unlike other women Aramis encountered, he’d never once made a pass at her.

“Let’s go. The Captain will be wondering if we found him,” Porthos said. She nodded and started walking with them as they carefully held Aramis between them, much like she had, and returned to the garrison. If nothing else, she thought, they pretended well. Time would tell if she could trust these men with her brother and heaven help them if she couldn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> On a slightly different note, I'm looking for a beta reader (my normal one, my dad, is too busy right now) for a long modernAU Musketeer work. It's set in the same universe as many of the Whumptober stories, so familiarity with that universe would be preferred. I'm having to re-write the story partly thanks to Whumptober and I'm concerned about characters and keeping things consistent (I probably should be able to do it, but I'm worried about the changes I'm having to make.). There are some other concerns I have with it as well. No surprise, it's an Aramis focused story. If you have time and are interested, let me know.


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